


It's In His Kiss

by laschatzi



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-21
Updated: 2015-06-21
Packaged: 2018-04-05 12:42:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4180263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laschatzi/pseuds/laschatzi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>based on a prompt: sexy eyes, talented fingers, fluff and smut. Emma notices, during a nice quiet evening in front of a cackling fire, that Killian has done something strange with her hair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's In His Kiss

 

It was one of those quiet autumn evenings she especially enjoyed – not cold enough to need to wrap herself up in really thick layers of clothing (a short-sleeved t-shirt and soft sweatpants were sufficient), but chilly enough to have Killian light a cackling fire in their fireplace. He had pulled an armchair near and had comfortably slumped down on it, the ear plugs of Emma's iPod in his ears. Music in its vast variety was one of the things that fascinated him the most in this modern world, and he was soaking it up like a sponge.

 

His knees had fallen open, and Emma had settled on the fluffy rug on the floor between his thighs with her book, her legs crossed and her head leaning against his left knee. While the music was filling his head, he looked down at her with a smile. She looked so very young and girlish the way she was immersed in her book; her left arm was lightly hugging his leg, her hand holding the book, while her right hand ran up and down his leg from time to time in an almost absentminded way, without her even noticing it. It was a very casual and natural, very intimate gesture.

 

Sometimes, Killian softly hummed along with the songs he already knew in a low, melodious voice (he'd found that guitar music was the one he liked best), and his hand was playing in her hair, lightly massaging her neck with the tips of his fingers. Emma didn't even really notice it, because she was so immersed in her book – an ancient spellbook Regina had given her – and because basically his hand was always playing with her hair.

 

Suddenly, he stopped his fiddling and chuckled briefly. Emma looked up from her book and turned around with a smile. "What?" she inquired.

 

He tilted his head. "Nowadays' music never ceases to amaze me..."

 

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

 

He pulled the plugs from his ears. "Well, the shanties you could hear in a tavern in my days were already quite saucy, but this...” he tapped his ringed index finger to the iPod and clicked his tongue. “And to think you call _me_ Captain Innuendo!"

 

Emma laughed. "What, don't tell me you of all people find some song lyrics offensive?"

 

"I wouldn't say offensive, but...” He fidgeted with his earplugs and smirked. “Well, Swan, you know you always have a first-class seat on my lap, and _that_ ride surely is comfortable for you, but I would never sing about it."

 

She glared at him. "You better not, if you know what's good for you."

 

He cocked his eyebrow and pursed his lips in amusement. “Although I love it when you _talk dirty to me_.”

 

Emma rolled her eyes and resumed her reading whereas Killian went back to his music, soaking up more suggestive lyrics with an appreciative smirk. Soon, his hand was in her hair again, and she smiled to herself absentmindedly. At some point, though, the feeling sank into her that something was strange... she had the impression he was touching her differently and tugging at her hair in an unusual way. She looked up from her book again and frowned.

 

“Killian, what are you...” She turned her head around to look at him and noticed something was weird with her hair; automatically, her right hand went to the back of her head to probe, and she felt a soft, loose structure. Her jaw dropped when she recognized it, and she looked at him incredulously. “You _braided_ my hair?”

 

He pulled the plugs out of his ears. “Sorry, love, I didn't mean to...”

 

Emma shook her head in amused disbelief, her fingers carefully exploring the braid. Her pirate would surely never cease to amaze her. “But how?” she asked with fascination and put the book aside. “I mean, where did you even learn..."

 

Killian let one stray lock that had escaped his ministrations run through his fingers. "Oh, you'd be surprised how close winding ropes comes to this, love."

 

"Winding ropes?” she echoed. “ _You_ were winding ropes? I thought as a captain you just had to give the orders, and your crew did the deed?" There was a fond tease twinkling in her eyes when she smiled up at him.

 

He tilted his head. "Aye, that's true,” he confirmed, “but to be able to judge if the lot does it right, you yourself have to be capable of doing the deed. I know how to carry out any work that needs to be done on a ship," he told her matter-of-factly, without any hint of smugness in his voice. Emma thought how much she liked his seriousness when he talked about sailing.

 

"I see." She felt for the braid again. "Although I doubt the common pirate is capable of braiding hair,” she murmured, “especially not one-handed. I can't even manage a decent braid with two hands!”

 

Killian chuckled huskily; a sound that always made the little hairs on the back of her neck bristle and a little shiver run down her spine. “Well, of course one needs especially,” – he paused for a split second to wet his lips – “ _talented_ fingers for that deed.”

 

Emma pressed her lips together in a knowing smile. “Among others,” she commented in a flirty voice.

 

He shrugged. “Oh, there's really not much to it.” In an instant, his fingers had loosened the braid again, working and combing through her hair.

 

Emma protested: “No, leave it alone, I like it like that!”

 

Killian slid down from the armchair in one fluent move, settling on his knees behind her, his thighs still parted, so that he could move really close to her from behind. “I'll show you how to do it,” he announced and placed his hand and his hook on her shoulders. Emma smiled to herself, her stomach already fluttering with the suspicion that this was going to be more than just a lesson in how to coiffure. He ran his warm palm and the cool steel slowly down her bare arms to her wrists evoking a trail of goosebumps there, and then guided her hands upwards to the back of her head. “Put your hands here,” he directed. “Three strands. There you go.” He placed his hand on hers, and she felt his fingers weave in between her own and her hair, and with gentle pressure he curled her fingers around the thick strands of hair. “Don't let go,” he murmured, and the low, soft rumble of his voice made her shift a little between his legs. “Carefully. Now, change this strand into the other hand. But keep the two separated.” Gently, he guided her fingers. “Very good. Now repeat the move with the other hand. Aye, just like that.” He leaned in a little closer and brushed a very light kiss to the side of her neck that made her tilt her head involuntarily. “You're a natural, Swan,” he commented. “The most important thing is...” – _pick a partner who knows what he's doing_ – “smooth moves, and use _all_ your fingers.” His breath was caressing her throat now, and it made her lean her back into his front now. _And we're so not talking about braiding now, are we?_ shot through her mind. _Same as we weren't talking about waltzing then._ Almost like he was responding to her move, his thighs pressed against hers, trapping her. She had to shift back only a little more to feel his hardness press against her tailbone now. Sweatpants were a gift sent from heaven, really.

 

He let go of her hands and leaned back a little. “There, it's done.”

 

Emma let her hands sink and turned around to look at him, an expectant smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “And what now, figaro?”

 

Killian's responding little smirk was a fairly devilish one. Briefly, his tongue darted out to moisten his lips, and Emma mirrored his trademark gesture without even noticing. “Now...” he let her braid glide through his fingers, took the end and, with a quick flip of his wrist, wrapped it firmly around his hand. Her eyes widened for a split second, pupils dilated, and he pulled a little, just a little. “Now I'll show you how to put it to good use,” he purred in a low voice, and her eyelids fluttered in response.

 

Gently, he pulled her head to the right by the braid, and she followed very eagerly, exposing the left side of her throat to him. He leaned forward and brought his lips to her skin about a hand's breadth below her ear. Emma inhaled a deep breath and closed her eyes, putting her left hand to his head, pulling him closer, her fingers threading through his hair now. His lips were warm and soft, and he sucked a little at her flesh – not enough to leave a mark, but it surely made her every nerve end tingle. He kissed his way slowly, languidly along her neck, and while his mouth moved to the front, he was following with his body, sliding around her on his knees until he was kneeling in front of her.

 

His hand was still firmly holding her braid, her head tilted back now, while he kissed the front of her throat. The contrast of his soft lips and his scruff was quickly driving her crazy, and it was a good thing they were already sitting on the floor, otherwise she doubted she'd be able to stand safely on her own two feet. She'd wrapped her right arm around his torso, sliding her hand underneath the soft fabric of his t-shirt, pulling him closer. Her sighs and her jugular vein thrumming madly against his lips told him how much she was enjoying the lesson. Killian smiled against her skin and kissed his way up the front of her throat until he reached the dimple in her chin and lingered a little there. Emma licked her lips and opened them a little, preparing them and mentally also herself for his kiss, but instead of bringing his mouth on hers now, his lips traveled from her chin along her jawline and flicked briefly over her earlobe only to continue their path on her cheekbone, her temple and her forehead and finally her nose. Then he stopped and tilted his head back a little to look into her eyes and smiled, the little devil winking at her from the sapphire depths of his eyes.

 

She wanted to lean in and kiss him, but he held her head firmly in place by the braid and didn't allow her to come nearer; instead, _he_ did – he leaned in a little closer and brushed his lips just ever-so-slightly over hers, barely touching her. The sound she made was a mix of frustration and pleasure; she'd never have thought that kissing – or _barely_ kissing – could be such a sensual torture. She could feel the heat exploding in her stomach and building up quickly, spreading all through her body until the very tips of her fingers that were curled into his shirt and hair. The touch of his lips was as light as a butterfly's wings when he started on the left corner of her mouth, wandering slowly along the curve of her waiting, _wanting_ lips, driving her crazy. Kissing Killian had always made her weak in the knees, but this – just _almost_ kissing him – was almost more than she could handle. Emma squirmed against him and tried to pull him closer, her sighs turning into moans and getting more and more urgent with each tormenting touch, every lascivious lick. His lips were fluttering over hers, his teeth softly grazing over her lower lip, the tip of his tongue brushing along her upper lip. The heat that had been coursing through her veins had found its destination now and was pooling low in her belly, blossoming between her legs. Every time when she tried to capture his mouth hungrily, he pulled her head back a little.

 

“Killian,” she managed breathlessly, “dammit...”

 

That bastard, he chuckled against her lips. “Be patient,” he hummed, “good things come to those who wait.”

 

She glared at him, but the exasperation in her eyes was coated in desire. He gave her bottom lip one last stroke with the tip of his devil tongue and leaned back again, slipping his hook under the hem of her shirt and letting go of her braid as soon as he was out of her reach.

 

"Let's get you out of this, love," he prompted in a husky voice and tugged lightly at her shirt with his hook and his fingers. The cold metal felt like a branding iron on her already heated skin and made her shiver. Without further ado, Emma pulled the garment over her head and tossed it aside.

 

"Your turn," she demanded and reached for his v-neck shirt, starting to lift it slowly. While she was pulling it up, she made sure to let her knuckles travel from his hipbones all over his torso, brushing them over his nipples. With delight, she heard him catch his breath and watched his eyes darken and his abs twitch before he finished the deed and slipped out of the shirt. “That's much better,” she commented with a sultry smile and let her fingertips breeze from his left collarbone along his sternum, enjoying the feeling of his body hair against her skin and the way its texture subtly changed from more wiry and ruffy on his chest to smooth and velvety on his stomach and the trail leading down and disappearing into his sweatpants. Her eyes were following the path of her hand, and he was watching her with a pleased little smirk on his face, but when she'd reached the waistband of his pants and curled her fingers into it, he stopped her with his hook at her wrist.

 

“Not so fast,” he chuckled, “it's quid pro quo.”

 

Emma looked at him, mesmerized, and Killian leaned forward for a kiss, his hand curving around her shoulder and reaching for her braid again. She tilted her head to the right, and her lips parted in eager anticipation, but shortly before he touched his lips to hers, he'd gotten hold of the braid and held her head in place while he dived a little to the side and brushed his mouth along her jawline instead. She bit her bottom lip, smiled and let her head fall back, obeying the pull of his hand, enduring the sweet torture of not being properly kissed with the knowledge that she would be rewarded for it later.

 

Absurdly enough, when Killian heard her sigh and saw she was not going to put up any resistance, he almost succumbed to the temptation himself – the temptation to end this game and simply pull her in for a deep kiss; his own lips were tingling with the desire to devour hers. But his self-control kept the upper hand; he tightened the grip around her braid and let his mouth glide slowly down the side of her neck to her left shoulder. Simultaneously, his hook wandered up to her other shoulder, the cold steel leaving a trail of goosebumps on the skin of her right arm. Both her hands were resting on his knees, and he felt her fingers press into his flesh through the soft fabric of his sweatpants.

 

Emma too was on her knees now, sitting on her heels, and her thighs had fallen open to lure him near and give him better access for what he was doing. His scruff grazed the side of her neck to the point of coaxing another deep sigh from her, and then she felt a tug at the strap of her bra and shivered when he started to pull it from her shoulder with his teeth. On her other side, his hook scraped a little along her skin when he slid it under the other strap and pulled that one from her shoulder, too. His hand let go of her braid now and wandered down to the clasp of her bra. A few short, expert moves, and it snapped open, the garment being pulled from her in an instant. Her head was still thrown back, and Killian concentrated his attention on her breasts now. Automatically, her spine curved when his lips, tongue and – very carefully – even his teeth were worshipping her sensitive flesh in the most delicate way. Gently, he sucked her right nipple into his mouth, and a soft groan rumbled deep in his chest when, in response, she shifted forward and searched to intensify the contact. He spread his fingers and pressed his palm against her back.

 

Emma's back arched involuntarily when she felt his warm palm press firmly between her shoulder blades and slide down along her spine to a point right above the waistband of her pants. The smooth, cool steel of his hook had slipped underneath, but wasn't pulling – yet.

 

She pictured his hand on her curved spine, the faint dusting of black hair on its back, the ringed fingers pressing possessively into her flesh, and the mental image alone drove her crazy. He continued the ministrations of his wicked mouth on her breasts, and suddenly she felt like they were not nearly close enough; too strong was the pull in her belly already. Her arms went around his neck, her fingers curling in his hair, and finally he lifted his head to look her in the eyes. Their stares locked, and for a few seconds they both remained motionless.

 

Like so often, she was hypnotized by his eyes. They were of a dark midnight blue now, lit by that devilish glint lurking in their depths. The lids were half-closed, the impression of heaviness heightened by his sinful lashes. _Bedroom eyes._ She had the sensation that they were peeling off every layer of her body and soul, until she was completely bare before him. A little smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. _God_ , she wanted to kiss him so badly. From the corners of her eyes she spotted the glistening tip of his tongue behind his slightly parted lips as he ran it absentmindedly along the inside of his teeth.

 

At his gesture, a fresh bolt of desire shot through her body, and she tightened her hold and lunged forward onto his lap in a determined move, her intention leaving no room for interpretation. A guttural sound rumbled up from deep in his chest and escaped his lips when she claimed her position on that first class seat and settled the needy, soft spot between her legs right on the greedy, hard one between his. Killian felt her heat through the layers of clothing that still separated them, and as a reflex to the pressure against his hard length he pulled her even closer into him.

 

Their foreheads rested against each other while their stares were still locked, and in a lazy rhythm that was driving both of them crazy and left them breathless, Emma started to rock her hips back and forth, searching the delicious friction between her aching core and his erection that was barely reined in by the soft fabric of his pants. She felt her juices flow abundantly. For a moment, he too succumbed to the temptation and rolled his hips forward, guiding her comfortable ride across his lap with his hand on her back. But after a few pushes, he regained his self-control and slid his hand to her waist, interrupting her lascivious lap dance.

 

“Hold it, lass,” he gasped and, with a steely will, kept his own hips from twitching.

 

Emma's voice was raw with sheer need; she'd riled herself up too much already. “Killian...” she urged.

 

“Shhhh,” he made and stopped her firmly, pushing her gently off of his lap. “You need to slow down, love.” He rose to a kneeling position and pulled her with him against her protests. “Get up on your knees, come on.” With soft pressure, he urged her to turn around. “Let me see how that braid looks on that beautiful back of yours,” he murmured huskily into her ear, and she shivered; that was not because she was naked from the waist up. “Gorgeous,” he purred and ran his fingertips from the hem of her pants up the skin of her back, making her squirm. The loose braid was resting between her shoulder blades, and Killian brushed it aside to get access to the back of her neck. He bent forward and kissed her there, his hook resting against the delicate skin of her hips, right above the waistband of her pants.

 

When Emma felt his lips against her neck, impatience hit her again. Every nerve end in her core was still thrumming from the sensation of grinding against his hardness, and she wanted to _really_ get into it now. She reached behind her head with her left arm and turned her head around to him. He fixed his eyes on hers with a loving smile and let his hook wander up her side again, over her ribcage and the curve of her breast, making her inhale sharply. The metal followed the line of her throat and raised her chin a little. Emma's lips parted, but instead of kissing her, he carefully ran the curved steel along her bottom lip.

 

“We need to get you out of these pants.”

 

She swallowed. “Good plan.” Her voice was hoarse.

 

Killian got hold of her waistband and tugged it down without great haste, but also without further delay. As she was still kneeling, he couldn't pull the pants off completely; but when Emma shifted a little on her knees to free her legs from the garment, she felt his warm palm in her back again, pressing her gently forward.

 

“Just lay down, love,” he prompted, and she stretched herself out on the floor eagerly, lying flat on her stomach, chin resting on her folded arms. The rug was fluffy, but still rough enough to tickle the sensitive flesh of her breasts. He peeled the sweatpants off her legs, and then she heard him shift a little, but couldn't see what he was doing. Deliberately, she did not turn around but waited for what he had in store, a delightful shiver running along her spine although the cackling fire in front of her was basking her in its heat now.

 

After a moment, she felt his hand on her right calf and a second later his mouth in the hollow of her left knee, pressing a gentle kiss to it. The sensation of the accompanying scruff on her sensitive skin made her bite her lip, because this was _ridiculous_. She had never before been aware that her knee was undeniably directly connected to her core, but obviously it was, because _God_ , that felt good. She felt his scruff graze along her thigh, and a tiny sigh escaped her lips. Killian was moving along her left side while he was kneeling beside her, his knees brushing against her waist through the soft fabric of his sweatpants, and with an absurd little pang of disappointment she realized that he hadn't taken them off yet. The next moment, his hand was sweeping across her shoulder blades, pushing aside her hair, and the braid was falling over her right shoulder. She examined it from the corner of her eyes, and it looked as neat as it had felt under her touch. _Damn_ , that man had talented fingers. If only he'd put them to good use now.

 

As if he had read her thoughts, suddenly she felt his fingertips at the base of her spine, right above the hem of her cotton panties, and drew in a sharp breath as he started to drag them along her spine. He bent forward to kiss the back of her neck right below her hairline and then slowly followed down the column of her spine with his lips while his fingers were wandering the opposite way, his fingernails lightly scraping along her vertebrae. Emma started to squirm under his touch. When his mouth had passed her shoulder blades, he left the path and meandered to the sides, slowly sliding over the soft swell of her muscles on the right and left of her spine, planting a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses to her flesh, sucking, licking and nibbling his way down to the perfectly symmetric dimples on either side of her lower back. She curled her fingers into the fluff of the rug and writhed, moaned, astounded to discover that obviously her whole backside was one single, erogenous zone. When she felt his smile against her skin, her hips arched involuntarily upwards from the rug.

 

Killian let his loving gaze sweep along the perfect curve of her back and reveled in the way her body squirmed and smoothly curled like a beautiful mermaid's tail. Like always, he was completely awestruck by the fact that it was _his_ touch evoking these reactions from her. He brushed his fingers one last time along her spine, being rewarded with another breathy sigh, before he hooked them and his metal attachment into the soft cotton of her panties and pulled them down; the way she shifted impatiently to help him get them off her was unspeakably endearing to him. The moment he had completely freed her from the undergarment, she looked at him over her shoulder with her eyes so full of desire and a quite aggressive come-hither look that he almost combusted on the spot. Her legs parted a little and she lifted her hips, inviting him, luring him... _urging_ him, but he shook his head with the tiniest smile and caressed her ankle.

 

“Let me see your eyes when I make love to you, my treasure.”

 

Emma didn't need any further invitation. She smiled back, completely enchanted, and turned around, laying down on her back on the fluffy rug, opening her thighs and stretching out her arms for him. Finally, he got rid of his own sweatpants now; Emma's eyes widened the tiniest bit and grew a darker shade of green, and she licked her lips when she saw that his arousal was in no way inferior to her own. He positioned himself between her legs and the lowered himself on his elbows while she wrapped her arms around his torso and her legs around his waist and pulled him even closer. Not needing her guidance, he found her entrance easily and lingered only briefly there to revel in the feeling of her obvious neediness.

 

She was so slick that he could have buried himself completely inside her with one single, forceful thrust, and his baser nature urged him to do so, but he was determined to keep up the slow and lazy pace that had led to such an enormous build-up. It cost him great effort and all of his willpower, but he entered her agonizingly slowly, inch by glorious inch. Emma threw her head back, and her whole body arched; she let out a deep, feral groan that rumbled up from deep in her chest, and her fingers dug deep into the flesh of his muscular back when he started to move – still deliberately slowly. Her fingernails were short, as usual, but she gripped him so forcefully that he could feel them cut into his skin. Utterly fascinated, he watched Emma's uninhibited abandonment in the moment; the way her eyelids fluttered and her lips parted while he pulled out almost completely, just as slow, were the most erotic thing he'd ever seen.

 

Emma went almost crazy when he slid back in again in the same slow-motion pace like the first time, dragging along her walls and almost nonchalantly hitting that spot inside her that drove her crazy. When she felt his mouth at the side of her throat, her eyes flew open again and she brought her hands to his head, entangling her fingers in his hair, messing it up completely. She pulled his head back to look into his face, and his expression showed nothing of the predatory demeanor he sometimes bore in the most frenzied throes of passion; she saw nothing but love and tenderness, and her need to kiss him was rekindled and almost overwhelming. She tried to pull him down to her, lifted her head to meet his lips, but in the last moment he tilted his head the tiniest bit, and his mouth landed on her jawbone. He was making love to her in the most sweet and tender way and continued to kiss her everywhere but her mouth, and whenever she tried to kiss him, he avoided her deftly, and she noticed that he had gotten hold of her braid again. Whenever she moved too impatiently, he tugged her head back down, never letting go of the control and her braid still firmly wrapped around his hand.

 

All the time, he never changed his pace; Emma could feel the tension build up inside her, but it wasn't enough, and she needed more, _more_ – but all her efforts to make him give her more, be more relentless failed. He was moving slowly, languidly inside her, in and out, in and out, without any haste, without any force, and _oh God_ – why didn't he just drive her into oblivion? He circled his hips when he was the deepest inside, and the rhythmic pressure of his pubic bone on her most sensitive bundle of nerves was almost more than she could take – but at the same time, it was not enough. She wanted it never to end, and at the same time she wanted him desperately to finish her off already. She was driven to the verge of madness – he was denying her his kiss, and he was denying her a pace that would push her over the edge. The tension build up inside her, to a point where she couldn't handle it anymore; she was close, _so_ close to her orgasm, but couldn't quite reach it yet. Her need for release was desperate now, and it simply drove her crazy. All of her writhing and moaning and clenching of her inner walls didn't seem to spur him on; the opposite was the case. He slowed down his moves even more, all the while looking at her with so much love in his eyes that he didn't even seem to tease her. She felt a droplet of sweat trickle down the side of her ribcage and arched her back again in desperation.

 

"Killian..." she urged, her voice an unashamed plea now, raw with need.

 

He brushed a kiss over her temple. “What is it, my love?”

 

“Oh God, please,” she almost begged, “I need...”

 

He stilled entirely now and tilted his head. "Aye, my treasure, I know,” he replied in a low voice. “I _know_. Tell me, love,” he demanded, “tell me, what do you crave?"

 

 _Move faster, for fuck's sake,_ she wanted to hiss, _harder – where's your goddamn pirate?_ But then she looked into his eyes, those gorgeous blue eyes fixing her like she was everything and then some, and all she could say was: _"Kiss me..."_

 

Killian let go of her braid and ran his ringed index finger along her bottom lip. “So beautiful...” he murmured and smiled his most dazzling smile. “Gods, I love you.”

 

And he entangled his hand in her hair and finally lowered his lips on hers; but even now, he wasn't devouring her or kissing her hard. Still, the moment his lips touched hers, she knew her undoing was but a tongue's stroke away. He kissed her deeply, languidly, thoroughly – and almost the same instant she felt her walls start to clench and flutter; her body arched up against his, and she came in a rush of relief that made her almost see stars, moaning into his mouth. He kept his lips on hers and his hips softly rutting against hers to carry her through her climax, and then she felt him tense and go all rigid and follow her right after.

 

Their lips were still locked when their bodies stopped to tremble, and only very slowly, reluctantly, he finally broke the connection. Emma was still breathing heavily when she told him: “I love you too. And you're hired.”

 

Killian's head was still dizzy, and he couldn't quite follow. He quirked a questioning eyebrow. “I'm hired?” he echoed.

 

She nodded. “As my hair stylist,” she added with a grin. “You have quite a way with braids.”

 


End file.
